


Ice ceilings

by Cartonsofcartoons



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Yuuri coaches Minami
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:43:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cartonsofcartoons/pseuds/Cartonsofcartoons
Summary: Yuuri thanked whatever deity was watching over him that made it so that the video only went viral on Japan. The triplets were originally going to release it on YouTube and wouldn't that have been embarrassing, to be seen so pathetically obsessed with Viktor by the man himself.("Be my coach Katsuki-san!")





	

 

 

Yuuri skated to Viktor Nikiforov’s program and it went absolutely viral. All of Japan talked about it for days, reporters hounded Hasestsu looking for answers,

_‘Does this mean you’re returning to ice skating?’_

_‘Why does this performance seem so much better compared to your competition performances?’_

_‘Did you bomb your competitions deliberately?’_

And from one particular reporter,

_‘Do you feel like you need to be out of form and so overweight to skate well?’_

  


So Yuuri did the only thing possible. Announced his retirement to the public and thanked whatever deity was watching over him that made it so that the video only went viral on Japan. The triplets were originally going to release it on YouTube and wouldn't that have been embarrassing, to be seen so pathetically obsessed with Viktor by the man himself.

_(Sometimes Yuuri would bury his face into pillows and scream silently at the thought of his idol across the ocean, watching him skate Stammi Vicino with Makkachin draped over him. Would he have laughed, Yuuri wondered. Would he have clucked his tongue in disapproval? Would he have seen him and thought ‘Oh, so that man wasn’t a fan he was a fellow competitor’._

_Or maybe he would have watched a few seconds, found it boring and closed the video before it even began.)_

It didn’t matter anymore, Yuuri was done with skating competitively. Maybe he could coach at Ice Castle, teach the young ones to skate. That was the one good fallout of this, people were interested in Hasetsu again. The reporters left but the people remained. And he thought that maybe he could eke out a new life there in the quiet town he had left for the glamour of the ice. It was all done now.

  


_(Or so he thought.)_

  


“Be my coach Katsuki-San,” begged the young man who had confronted him at his family’s inn.

“I-I’m sorry?” Yuuri stuttered out, wondering where this smol child had come from, with his red streaked hair and snaggletooth grin. “Who are you?”

The boy drooped, all but sobbing, but picked himself up again, “Minami Kenjirou!”

Yuuri felt exhausted just looking at the boy’s enthusiasm.

“Be my coach!” He reiterated with a grin and Yuuri looked to the skies for guidance, but none was forthcoming.

“I made it to the Grand Prix once where I bombed my performance, in the nationals I was so bad they thought I was injured, why do you want me to coach you?!”

“You’re my idol Yuuri!” He said and began listing all of his achievements, his programs, his interviews, everything.

Yuuri jolted at that. The thought of being someone’s idol, being someone’s Viktor Nikiforov was beyond anything he could ever have imagined. And he thought back to the time he met Viktor, the easy, fake smile, the casual ‘Commemorative photo? Sure!’ and looked back at Minami with his expectant grin.

“Okay, I’ll be your coach.”

 

❆

 

Viktor loved the ice. It was cold and sharp, made him feel alive, made him feel like he could fly.

He did not like competitions. He did not like having to skate the same thing over and over again, something that felt static to him. He couldn’t feel it anymore, couldn't feel the liveliness he once did. It was more fun to spin aimlessly in circles than it was to do choreography and when the hell did that happen? When did that excitement over choreographing his own programs die out into something so humdrum and dull? When did skating turn from flying on ice to slogging against the current in waterlogged clothes?

“I don’t want to skate anymore.” He told Yakov and the man was unsurprised.

“What will you do then?” Yakov asked and Viktor hadn’t thought about that.

He remembers then, a man clinging to him, grinding against him and pleading ‘ _Be my coach, Viktoorr_ ”

Maybe that’s the answer then.

“I want to try coaching.”

  


_(To his credit Yakov only laughed for fifteen minutes.)_

  


“ _You_ , coach someone?!” Yakov said through guffaws, “Who would be stupid enough to take you up on that?!”

And Viktor wonders the same. The news that Yuuri had decided to retire had come to him through Chris who shared the link to the story with the caption, ‘My pole dancing buddy is retiring :(‘

The sound of skates on ice coming closer takes him out of his reverie as Yuratchka pulls over to where Yakov and Victor are standing near the boards.

“Old man, where’s my program!”

Viktor whistled and turned to his old coach, “Yakov, you’re choreographing Yuratchka’s programs! Wouldn’t Lilia be better for that?”

Yakov growled, “He was talking to you,”

Viktor made a moue at that, he wasn’t old!

“You asshole, don’t forget your promise!”

“I made a promise?”

Yuri rages and raves, reminding Viktor of it. Apparently he had promised to choreograph his short program if he won without any quads.

“We found our lab rat,” Yakov smirked, “Yuri, you’re going to be coached by Viktor this season.”

It took them a while to hammer it out but the deal was sealed. Viktor would coach Yuri while Yakov would coach him in coaching.

It wasn't the Yuri he thought he would end up with but it was better than the nothingness that awaited him otherwise.

 

❆

 

“I’m really here!” Minami exclaimed, unbearably excited as they strode out of the airport. He pointed at everything on the way to the hotel in Beijing. Yuuri and his old coach who had luckily agreed to stay on and help Yuuri figure it all out, shared an amused look over the boy’s head.

It was good to see. Yuuri had never been excited for his competitions, only anxious. He spent his time going over his choreography and his jumps, never taking the time to appreciate that his hard work had paid off. The one he had was the last Grand Prix, and well, that hadn’t ended well.

A pang ran through him a she remembered Vicchan. It barely had the time to settle into the grief and regret it usually did before he was shaken out of it by Minami.

“We’ve reached!” He said and tumbled out of the cab. Yuuri paid the cab while his co-coach checked them in. His duffle in one hand and his phone in the other, Yuuri walked into the lobby, hands busy texting Mari that he had reached the hotel when it tumbled out of his hands as a pair of arms wound themselves around him. The hand caught the phone before it could fall and before Yuuri could register a single thought had the camera open and snapped a pic of them.

‘Phitchit,’ Yuuri realised and relaxed into the back hug.

“You are the worst!” Phitchit complained, even as he held Yuuri’s phone in hand, instagramming the pic while doing the same from his own phone. When exactly he had sent that picture to himself, Yuuri didn’t know. “My first time at a Grand Prix assignment and you’re here as a coach instead of a competitor.”

“Sorry Phitchit,” Yuuri said, not apologetic in the least.

“It’s bad enough Viktor Nikiforov decided to take the season off and maybe even retire, _you_ too?!”

Yuuri had been trying hard not to think about that. This would be the first in many years that he wouldn't be glued to the screen, watching Viktor on the ice. It felt wrong somehow.

But it had done something to the rest, suddenly they viewed the Grand Prix gold as something attainable and were trying harder this year.

_(Yuuri thought that was weird. If you didn’t gun for gold when the legend skated then what was the point? Yuuri always skated to prove himself worthy of standing on the same ice as Viktor. To want anything less was just not enough.)_

 

❆

 

Viktor couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw him there. Yuuri, in the flesh although not as much flesh as the last time they’d met each other. He was surrounded by skaters that Viktor didn’t recognise and for a moment Viktor wondered if perhaps he had rescinded his retirement.

_(He hadn’t bothered keeping up with him after the heartbreaking news that Yuuri was retiring. It felt wrong, like something in the universe had gone terribly wrong and he couldn’t breathe, wallowing in that thought of what if, what if he’d followed him to Japan and convinced him to skate after all)_

“Ah, Yuuri is competing too?” He wondered out loud and didn't have to wait long. The kick to his backside came quick and fats once Yuratchka figured out what he was talking about. “Idiot, he’s your competition this time!”

“Oh?”

“The pig is that Minami’s coach. The dumbfuck begged the crybaby to coach him.” Yuri smirked, “Not that he could do anything anyway with his shit form.”

Yuuri did seem to be a bit more chubby than last time but it was cute, really. Suited him.

And then it really sank in. Yuuri was here as a coach.

Before Viktor knew it he was in front of Yuuri with Yuratchka close behind, complaining all the way.

“Ah, Yuuri, all us new coaches should go out for hot pot together!”

“We both are the only new coaches.” Yuuri said blankly as if they were utter strangers and Viktor fought the urge to fall to the ground clutching his breaking heart.

“So cruel to someone who just wants to spend some time with you, Yuuri!”

“Yuuri’s promised to me actually,” the boy at his side beamed, Viktor didn’t know his name but he was pretty sure it was that Thai skater, “but I guess you could join us too.” The boy eyed him slyly and Viktor knew that he needed to become friends with this all seeing person before he took things into his own hand.

“Thank you…?”

“Phitchit Chulanont” He answered Viktor’s unspoken question, luckily not taking offence at his ignorance.

“LIKE HELL I’M LETTING YOU OUT OF MY SIGHT!” Yuri shrieked, his foot finding place in Viktor’s back again. “YOU’LL GET DRUNK AND RUIN MY SENIOR DEBUT!”

It was a large group that ended up going out for hot pot. Celestino, Phitchit, Minami, Yuri, Viktor, Guang-Hong, Leo and of course, Yuuri. Viktor couldn’t help but pout as Yuuri sat across from him, far too far away. He alternated between laughing it up with Phitchit and apologising to Celestino because apparently his coach found out he was retiring the same way the rest of the world did, via the internet.

It wasn’t fair, Viktor wanted to talk to Yuuri before he disappeared the way he did all those months ago. So he pulled out the big guns.

“Viktor!” came the exclamation and the group looked to the side where Christophe Giacometti now stood, “I thought I would have to wait until the Short Program to meet everyone!”

It didn’t take long after that. Chris didn’t get drunk but then he didn’t need to get drunk to be his usual inappropriate self. Before long, Celestino  decided the scene that was being created was far too risque for young eyes and ushered the skaters away to the hotel.

It was like he had never seen any of Chris’ programs before. But it served Viktor’s purpose so who was he to complain especially when Chris left soon after with a secretive wink thrown Viktor’s way.

“Drunk shrimp?” He asked Yuuri, staring into his eyes deeply.

Yuuri flushed and shook his head. “I don’t like to eat raw things before competitions.”

“But _we’re_ not competing tomorrow.” Viktor raised a shrimp to his mouth, swallowing it down with a ‘Vkusno!’ and Yuuri smiled a tiny smile.

“We may not be _skating_ tomorrow, but I don’t think we can say we aren’t competing,” The glint in his eyes took Viktor aback and had him narrowing his own eyes.

 

❆

 

Yuuri wanted to laugh and wondered how this had happened. How they had gone from the restaurant with its dim lights, its soft chatter and intimate atmosphere to walking back to the hotel. Viktor walked slowly as if trying to prolong every moment of this and what could Yuuri do but follow his lead as he had always done.

He looked at Viktor and found him looking back at him with that odd expression on his face. All this time and here they were again. No cameras, no reporters, no skates even but here they were.

“Commemorative photo?” The words stumbled out of his mouth before he could even think them over and he flushed but Viktor just smiled.

“Bit late for your revenge isn’t it?”

“I-I didn't mean-”

“You did. And that’s okay,” Viktor sighed and looked away at the dark sky above them, “Although it seems I haven’t learnt my lesson yet.”

“Why did you retire?”

Viktor seemed surprised by that question which was strange, surely he’d been asked that before?

“Not really,” Viktor said and Yuuri realised he had voiced his last thought out loud. “They’ve been asking me about my retirement since I turned 25. No one asks me _why_. They ask me if I’m sure, but not why.”

“So, why?”

“I can surprise everyone else, but I can’t surprise myself anymore. There’s no joy left in it.” Viktor sighed again, pushing his hair away from his forehead before shaking it out to its usual state, “For a moment I thought I had found something but…”

“I see.”

So even Viktor had times like that. Yuuri had never thought it could happen to him, that the great Viktor Nikiforov could struggle for anything let alone inspiration.

He had never thought of him as human.

“And you? Why did you retire?”

Yuuri contemplated lying to him but dismissed that thought. If Viktor could tell him something so personal then he could be brave like that too, or at least try.

“My dog died last year. I hadn’t seen him for five years before that. Always training, trying to win something that I never did and the next thing I know my family isn’t whole anymore.” But that had only ever been the beginning.

He was still trying to figure it out, what he needed to skate on his own, he wanted his conviction back, he wanted to _believe_ he could skate but he didn’t know what would get him there. There was so much life that he’d given up for his dream and it wasn’t like he didn’t expect the sacrifices, but after that Grand Prix he’d bombed Yuuri had realised that he didn’t have anything left to give anymore, didn’t have anything to offer at the altar of the ice.

He was getting there though. Slowly, steadily.

“I wanted more but I didn’t know how to get it.” Yuuri couldn’t help the hysterical laugh that left him, “It doesn't help that I get nervous.”

“Everyone gets nervous.”

“Even you?” He scoffed. The great Viktor Nikiforov getting nervous.

“I did. Back when it actually mattered to me, I got nervous.”

It was the wistfulness that got to Yuuri. He tried to imagine what that might be like, not getting nervous because he didn’t care. He shuddered at the thought and changed the subject.

“And now that you’re coaching Yuri?” He  prompted and Viktor laughed.

“Not nervous, no. But it’s _exciting_.”

Yuuri could actually believe this was the most invested Viktor had been in skating ages. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes, the absentminded lilt to his lips, but he was more animated, more alive in that one moment than he’d been on and off the ice in the last year.

Viktor kept on stealing glances at Yuuri. Another person and he wouldn’t even have noticed but this was Viktor and whenever he turned to look at him through the corner of his eyes Yuuri was already there, looking back at him. He had never been able to take his eyes off Viktor, no matter what and this was no exception.

“Would you-Oh, we’re here.” Whatever it was that Viktor wanted to ask Yuuri he would never know. Reporters were in the lobby, still working, reporting for the multitude of time zones that would broadcast this and they swarmed Viktor and soon enough, Yuuri too.

They were both soon caught up in their jobs as coaches, making sure to redirect the attention from their own retirements to that of their students’ career. When finally Yuuri got free he waved at Viktor who was still stuck in the crowd answering questions. In the elevator he finally took out his phone, newly filled with a multitude of numbers and tapped out a quick message.

‘ _I’ll see you tomorrow, wish Yuri luck.’_

And after a moment,

‘ _He’ll need it.’_

The answer came quickly and Yuuri knew Viktor was answering him while still answering the reporters.

_‘Sweet dreams Yuuri <3’ _

And before the flush could rise to his ears,

_‘Dreams might be the one place where Minami beats Yuratchka_ (^з^) _‘_

Oh, it was _on._

 

❆

 

Rostelecom was up next for Minami who had missed silver by a scant few points with Phitchit with silver and Yuri at gold at the Cup of China and surprise, surprise it was the assignment for Yuri too.

But the biggest surprise of it all was when Minami insisted on going early to Moscow at the behest of his new friend.

His new friend, Yuri Plistesky.

“You do mean Yuri Plisetsky, right?” Yuuri couldn't help but ask even as their plane began its descent. He still found it hard to believe and all the other skaters he’d talked to had been just as surprised.

( _And some like Phitchit couldn’t help the,selves from making cooing noises at the ‘kids’ playdate’_ )

“Yep!” Minami grinned.

“Small boy, angry all the time, permanent bitchface, that Yuri?”

“Yep!”

“Likes to yell at people and confront them in bathrooms after eavesdropping on their private conversations, that Yuri?”

Minami shot him a strange look, “Yep! We bonded over having coaches who should be our competitors but retired too early, and who didn’t notice we existed until we hunted them down.” Minami beamed and Yuuri was struck between dying of mortification and being oddly proud at the level of emotional manipulation his student was employing.

He settled for blinking in confusion.

The blinking in confusion turned quickly to flushing when he spotted Viktor waving wildly at him from the waiting area while Yuri huddled deep inside his hoodie, alternating between beaming aggressively at Minami and growling at Viktor.

“Ohayo gozaimasu!” Viktor announced and Yuuri’s grin froze awkwardly on his face.

“Idiot Viktor, use your shitty Japanese when you’re in Japan!” Yuri yelled before slinging Minami’s bag over his shoulder without another word and striding off to where Yuuri assumed the parking to be, dragging Minami behind him. Viktor followed his student’s lead by taking Yuuri’s bag, ignoring all his pleas and set off behind them.

“So they’re really friends, huh?”

Viktor hummed happily in answer, “I was surprised too! Little Yuratchka doesn’t have many friends near his own age.”

“That must be hard for him,” Yuuri said softly but apparently Viktor was paying attention because he heard it.

“It doesn’t feel that hard to him right now but soon he’ll grow up and all his booty call options will be too old or too young.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Chris,” Yuuri couldn't help but mutter and Viktor laughed raucously.

“Ah, what else can I do when Yuuri ignores all my messages!”

Yuuri flushed again. He did that a lot around Viktor.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, I just had a lot to do.”

“Oh?”

Yuuri didn’t elaborate. He didn’t want to sound pathetic by admitting that he had been convinced by Minami to choreograph something for himself, even though he wasn’t competing. Didn’t want to admit how much effort he had put into creating a program for himself that no one was probably ever going to see.

They packed themselves into a tiny car, somehow, managed to make it all the way out of the city to the quiet place Yuri grew up in, somehow, and were greeted by Yuri Plistesky’s grandfather who fawned over his grandson’s friend as best he could.

“It’s good to see Yuratchka make friends,” he announced gravely even as his hand patted Minami’s head before making them sit at the table with its white and blue flower pattern and feeding them piroshki in that seemingly distant but utterly fond way that some people do.

Yuuri looked at him and remembered his own grandfather who never smiled at anyone but snuck him and Mari a million sweets while making solemn demands of great grandchildren to spoil. He probably still did that to Mari, Yuuri realised and resolved to visit him sometime soon.

Yuri tugged Minami along in that gruff way of his to show him his room and Viktor led Yuuri outside with a wink and a little quip to “let the children play.”

“Come on, I want to show you something!” Viktor threaded his hands through Yuuri’s and practically ran along the snowy roads in his eagerness. They stumbled a couple of times but soon Yuuri understood why Viktor was in such a rush to lead him there.

In front of them was a pond, not so big that it could be compared to an ice rink but certainly big enough to have fun with.

“There’s no way Yuri could have been anything but a skater with this in his backyard.”

It was beautiful in the way that the wild places in the world were. Imposing and welcoming alike, and if this was where Yuri grew up then Yuuri was surprised that he was as civilised as he was.

Viktor had come prepared for it, taking his golden skates out of some strange pocket dimension in his coat and was on the ice before Yuuri could say anything.

And Yuuri was enthralled.

He had seen Yuri’s routine, On Love: Agape, and the choreography Viktor was doing seemed to be its antithesis, seductive in an aggressive way and Yuuri could see the story in it, the handsome playboy trying to woo the most beautiful woman in town, the chase, the charm of it and ending by letting go of her like she meant nothing.

Yuuri hadn’t seen Viktor skate in _so long_ , it felt like an eternity had gone by and he was swept away in it, in the feel of what could only be called Eros.

And suddenly Yuuri understood the ‘Boom, pregnant’ meme Phitchit threw around (usually following pictures of Seung-Gil).

“Took the old man long enough,” came a voice from beside him and Yuuri found himself staring at Yuri who was looking at Viktor with a strangely unsatisfied expression.

“Sorry?”

“Yuri-kun says that Viktor made two short programs but gave Agape to him,” Minami said excitedly clapping from Yuri’s other side. “Wow, he hasn’t lost his form at all has he? Just like you, Yuuri-sensei!”

“Oh, the piggy is still skating?” Yuri glared and Yuuri rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. He didn’t think anyone had seen him messing around with the music he had commissioned, let alone that Minami had. Minako-sensei had found it and gone through a lot of trouble to get it redone, making all sorts of calls to Phitchit who had helped her out in exchange for Yuuri’s baby photos.

The reworked piece was too beautiful to let it rot away in a desk, even if no one would see him skate to it, he still wanted to do it some kind of justice.

And apparently Minami had seen him practise.

“Minami’s style is so different from mine, I was trying to see what I could do.”

It was true enough. Minami wasn’t trained in the classics like Yuuri was. Where Yuuri used ballroom styles and ballet as his inspiration in his skates, Minami went for a more funky, jazzy type thing. Fun wasn’t a concept Yuuri had tried in skating. He could plead to an unseen lover to never leave him, could be an evil sorcerer turning people into swans, could be a doll wound up to move.

But _fun_? That was difficult.

“Right, you probably only do all that shit in dance-offs,” Yuri scoffed and Yuuri blinked furiously wondering how Yuri knew.

(He did tend to challenge people to dance-offs left and right when he was drunk)

(Kind of like his dad who challenged people to penalty shoot outs left and right when he was drunk)

“Yuuri!” Viktor pulled up to the edge, “What did you think?!”

Viktor was beaming at him, clearly looking for a specific answer and Yuuri gulped thinking what he wanted to hear, “It was great! Very seductive, I could see the story behind it!”

Viktor drooped. Clearly that was not what he wanted to hear.

 

❆

 

Makkachin’s scratching at the door broke Viktor out of his sleep and with a yawn he woke up to take him out for a walk. The sun was up but only barely so, the house all asleep. Viktor looked in on Yuri’s room and found the two boys sprawled over the floor surrounded by empty chip packets (baked not fried of course) bathed in the light of the TV that had the standby screen of some video game on.

It was adorable.

Viktor looked into the other guest room only to find it empty and was disappointed. He had thought he could maybe ask Yuuri if he wanted to join him on a walk. He finally skated the program he’d choreographed after being inspired by his dance with Yuuri and all he got was a ‘It was great!’. He thought that would reaction if nothing else would, Yuuri hadn’t once mentioned the banquet and it was driving him nuts. Maybe he could ask him again what he thought of On love: Eros.

He took the same path he did the day before, only to stop at a distance. There was Yuuri skating on the lake,

And it was _beautiful_.

Yuuri was shaky with jumps, Viktor knew that from the obsessive marathoning he’d done of Yuuri’s old routines but he landed them fine now. Viktor had always been told that he made skating look easy and he always considered it a high compliment but Yuuri, he made it look difficult in the best way. As if his skating was only ever something that people could aspire to recreate but never actually manage to, like an otherworldly immortal being dancing while surrounded by the trudge of mundane mortals.

“That was amazing!” Viktor couldn’t help but exclaim as Yuuri stretched his arm out to the trees, having reached the end and clapped enthusiastically.

“Viktor!” Yuuri stumbled over his own feet as he made his way to where he was standing in the ice. Makkachin left Viktor’s side to stand on his hind legs and wag his tail as he leaned on Yuuri. “I didn’t know you were watching,” He said while absentmindedly scratching Makkachin behind his ears, just the way he liked it.

“I could watch you skate for the rest of my life,” Viktor breathed out before cringing. That was dramatic and emotional even for him.

Yuuri flushed, whispering a thank you so softly Makka was probably one who heard it properly and took his skates off. “I like watching you skate too.” His ears were red and he wouldn’t meet Viktor’s eyes but his words settled down into the space under Viktor’s sternum with a warmth that had the Russian flushing in answer to his words.

Viktor had heard that from many people, but if what Yuuri felt was anything close to what Viktor felt when watching him skate…

 

 

 

 


End file.
